AS A PROFESSIONAL IN THIS MATTER, I CAN ASSURE YOU THE WELFARE OF HER SOUL IS NOT REALLY IN QUESTION.
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- Thread starter Eulalia
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AWWWWWW
darthagonoth
Executioner
To quote a 90s ads, I demand proof, not promises!
darthagonoth
Executioner
Alright, let's entertain ourselves, shall we? I'm feeling uncharacteristically generous on this fine Sunday, and I must admit, my curiosity is piqued. So I'm presenting you with options: Would you prefer the expedient route: the time-honored tradition of the rack along with trial by fire? Or perhaps you'd fancy a more... electrifying experience? Fair warning, though – that method could drag on for quite some time. The choice is yours. What will it be: swift agony or prolonged suffering? And remember, this is all for your own benefit.
darthagonoth
Executioner
As you wish. I must confess, your choice has taken me by surprise. But then again, the decision was always yours to make. Rest assured, I'll show a measure of... leniency, given that it's Sunday. However, should your stubborn streak persist until Monday arrives, well... let's just say the rules of engagement may change rather dramatically. You see, I've been an ardent admirer of the Malleus Maleficarum since my high school days. Who would have thought that my Latin studies would prove so... handy? In keeping with its venerable wisdom, I shall graciously provide intermissions during your questioning. And fear not, for I intend to follow all the recommended preparatory steps to the letter. Wouldn't want to deviate from such time-honored traditions, now would we?
darthagonoth
Executioner
Just because it's Sunday, and I am bored:
My dearest @Barbaria1 , come closer as I weave for you, and just for you, a dark tale of the consequences of your sins. Imagine, if you dare, that I am an inquisitor of old, tasked with carving the truth out of your sinful body.
In hushed tones, I would explain how I would begin by having you stripped bare, your vulnerability exposed to my calculating gaze. My eyes would roam your form, searching for any mark or blemish that might betray your supposed alliance with dark forces.
As we move to a chamber of horrors, I would gesture to the instruments arrayed before us, each one a testament to man's capacity for cruelty. With a voice both soft and menacing, I would describe the purpose of each device, painting vivid pictures of the agony they could inflict.
Then, leaning close, I would begin my interrogation. My questions would be subtle traps, designed to ensnare you in a web of admissions. I would twist your words, find hidden meanings in your denials, all in pursuit of the confession I seek.
Should you resist, I would feel the pressure mounting. The threat of torture would hang heavy in the air between us. I might offer you one last chance to confess, to spare yourself the pain that awaits. But if you remain steadfast, I would have no choice but to escalate.
The torture, were it to begin, would start gently - if such a word can be used in this context. Each session, a dance of pain and questioning, carefully timed and executed. Your cries would echo off the stone walls, your confessions scribed by unseen hands.
Know this, darling - should you not confess, this process could be repeated many times. Days, weeks could pass, each bringing a new round of interrogation and torment. Your resilience would be met with my unwavering persistence, the cycle continuing until the desired confession is obtained.
In the aftermath, once the confession is wrung from your lips, I would have you repeat it, free from the instruments of pain. Your words, now forever etched in history, would seal your fate.
Finally, standing in judgment, I would weigh your alleged crimes and pronounce sentence. The gravity of the moment would hang heavy, as I decide between penance and the ultimate price.
My dearest @Barbaria1 , come closer as I weave for you, and just for you, a dark tale of the consequences of your sins. Imagine, if you dare, that I am an inquisitor of old, tasked with carving the truth out of your sinful body.
In hushed tones, I would explain how I would begin by having you stripped bare, your vulnerability exposed to my calculating gaze. My eyes would roam your form, searching for any mark or blemish that might betray your supposed alliance with dark forces.
As we move to a chamber of horrors, I would gesture to the instruments arrayed before us, each one a testament to man's capacity for cruelty. With a voice both soft and menacing, I would describe the purpose of each device, painting vivid pictures of the agony they could inflict.
Then, leaning close, I would begin my interrogation. My questions would be subtle traps, designed to ensnare you in a web of admissions. I would twist your words, find hidden meanings in your denials, all in pursuit of the confession I seek.
Should you resist, I would feel the pressure mounting. The threat of torture would hang heavy in the air between us. I might offer you one last chance to confess, to spare yourself the pain that awaits. But if you remain steadfast, I would have no choice but to escalate.
The torture, were it to begin, would start gently - if such a word can be used in this context. Each session, a dance of pain and questioning, carefully timed and executed. Your cries would echo off the stone walls, your confessions scribed by unseen hands.
Know this, darling - should you not confess, this process could be repeated many times. Days, weeks could pass, each bringing a new round of interrogation and torment. Your resilience would be met with my unwavering persistence, the cycle continuing until the desired confession is obtained.
In the aftermath, once the confession is wrung from your lips, I would have you repeat it, free from the instruments of pain. Your words, now forever etched in history, would seal your fate.
Finally, standing in judgment, I would weigh your alleged crimes and pronounce sentence. The gravity of the moment would hang heavy, as I decide between penance and the ultimate price.
StarbuckSlut
Magistrate
You write so well.
darthagonoth
Executioner
One can only try, especially with muses like the ones around here.
WELL … THAT …. certainly got my attention early this Sunday morning. Not sure whether I should get out of bed or go back to sleep and
darthagonoth
Executioner
Perhaps you should linger in your sanctuary of sheets, allowing the whispers of dawn to caress your skin. Shed the trappings of the mundane world and let your mind wander to a place where flickering torchlight paints shadows on stone walls. Envision yourself as the central figure in this tableau of exquisite tension, surrounded only by the warmth of glowing coals in menacing braziers. As you explore this vivid dreamscape, let your fingers trace the contours of your imagination, gently coaxing yourself deeper into the reverie. This morning needn't end - it could be just the beginning of a most... stimulating journey.
Doc Fives
Spectator
Can we go with a third option? Flagellation?
Very cool prose. Barb likes it in bed. Dreams and fantasies can often be more than similar. (That's my experience anyway.) The Moore outrageous the fantasy, the Moore moist those sheets.
I was raised Catholic, and recall that one is expected to feel guilty about everything you do. As to the immortal soul, well that was what the Inquisition was for.
Our member @stretchedgirl has a gizmo called the Rapid Recovery Module (patent pending) that can regenerate all body parts after any dungeon, stake or crucifixion experience. I have no clue about the psychological effects though.I’m a traditionalist at heart, so for me it would be the so-called expedient route.
Do go easy on the stretching though. It’s Sunday after all.
(I did not want to call the RRM a device. Devices are tongs and pincers and screws and other hideous things. So...I called it a gizmo.
)
Doc Fives
Spectator
Gizmo seems to be an appropriate term for such a thing.Our member @stretchedgirl has a gizmo called the Rapid Recovery Module (patent pending) that can regenerate all body parts after any dungeon, stake or crucifixion experience. I have no clue about the psychological effects though.
(I did not want to call the RRM a device. Devices are tongs and pincers and screws and other hideous things. So...I called it a gizmo.